


Sleeping on the Couch

by Riven214



Category: Justified
Genre: Consent Issues, Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 07:05:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2141637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riven214/pseuds/Riven214
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Winona were more perceptive, she might have noticed that the couch was obviously undisturbed that evening, and that Tim had left the house barefoot and shirtless, not wanting to explain why the missing articles were on Raylan’s bedroom floor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping on the Couch

 

Tim’s eyes snapped open at the sound of keys fumbling in the front door. He slipped out of the bed, grabbed his gun from the bedside table in one fluid motion and was silently padding down the dark hallway when the triangle of porchlight from the opening door fell upon his path. He kept to the darkness and steadied his aim at the silhouette in the doorway. The light switched on, shedding light on both figures.

 

“Ahhhhh……Tim! What the hell?” Tim’s shirtless torso visibly relaxed, and he lowered his gun, smirking slightly. “Shit, Winona…,” he paused to let his spinning brain catch up to his mouth, but luckily, Winona cut him off.

 

“What are you doing here? What’s going on? Did something happen?” Her voice was laced with panic.

 

Recognizing the need to keep her calm, Tim raised one hand in a reassuring gesture and placed his gun on the nearby coffee table, “now, calm down Winona, everything is just fine. Raylan’s fast asleep in his bedroom like a little baby. We received some...uh, menacing words, most likely bullshit, directed toward Raylan earlier today. Surprising, I know, but Art told me to keep watch, aaand here I am.” He offered his palms, embracing the living room as he added, “sleeping on the couch.”

 

A bedraggled, partially dressed Raylan emerged from the room at the end of the hallway, beginning to speak before taking in the scene before him, “now, Tim, surely you didn’t invite someone over for a late night….Winona.” He quickly inhaled and ran a nervous hand through his hair as he saw her, eyes flicking quickly between Winona and Tim, “well, I’ll be…”

 

Tim jumped in before Raylan could run the train off its tracks, “I just finished explaining to her how the U.S. Marshall service deemed it necessary for me to look after your highness’ wellbeing for the evening on account of the threats to your person.”

 

Raylan met Tim’s eyes as he finished speaking, silently communicating something that was probably gratitude, but Tim wasn’t quite sure.

 

* * *

 

Tim had left shortly after the unexpected encounter, citing the creeping sunlight as his impetus.  If Winona were more perceptive, she might have noticed that the couch was obviously undisturbed that evening, and that Tim had left the house barefoot and shirtless, not wanting to explain why the missing articles were on Raylan’s bedroom floor. Winona was lost though, as usual, in Raylan’s presence, and never gave Tim’s story a second thought.

 

* * *

 

Tim’s eyes flicked up briefly then returned to his computer screen as Raylan casually sauntered into the office. He greeted Tim with a small tip of the hat and a nonchalant, “Tim.”

 

Tim responded with a drawn out, “Raaaylan.” Neither man met the other’s eyes. Raylan continued past to Art’s office, shutting himself in for a private Raylan/Art discussion.

 

Some time later he emerged, perching casually on Tim’s desk, he leaned in and whispered, “I should thank you.”

 

Tim kept his eyes on his screen, “so, thank me” he quipped, in a monotone drawl.

 

“Seriously, Tim, I wouldn’t have come up with a convincing story quick enough. Winona can’t find out about…” he finished his sentence by gesturing into the air between them.

 

“We really don’t have to talk about this, Raylan.” Eyes still on his screen.

 

“Look.” Raylan pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled dramatically, “Winona and I are going to give it another go…”

 

Tim didn’t miss a beat, “Like I said, there’s no need to talk about this.” Still no eye contact.

 

Raylan’s hand instantly shot toward the other man, perhaps to grab his chin and force Tim to meet his eyes, but he caught himself, suddenly aware of his surroundings. Tim flinched almost imperceptibly, but kept his eyes on the screen, mute and bored.

 

Raylan slapped his hand on the desk angrily, spun his body up and away from Tim, “Fine.” He began a rapid retreat to the elevators, muttering low and dark, “have it your way, you stubborn asshole.”

 

“I heard that!” Tim yelled after him in a playful tone that would seem to all to be part of their normal office bickering. But his eyes never left his screen, and he was feeling anything but playful.

 

* * *

 

“I’ve missed you, you know.” Raylan looked at him sideways.

 

Tim snorted derisively from the passenger seat and maintained his stare out the side window at their residence of interest, the dilapidated house on the corner.

 

“Come on, I’m not asking for much here, just that you be civil with me.”

 

“Civil…” Tim repeated slowly.

 

“Yes, Tim, civil. I believe we owe at least that to each other after…everything.”

 

Something about this angered Tim, he knocked his fist on the window to emphasize his point, “look, Raylan, like I said, there is no need to talk about anything, its not a big deal, all we did was fuck a handful of times.” Although he kept his eyes trained on their mark, his body was tense and rigid and his mind seemed to be anywhere but on their mission.

 

Sobered, or perhaps scared, by Tim’s emotion, Raylan sat back in the driver’s seat, sighing resignedly, “Okay, fine then, that’s fine.”

 

They both knew it was much more than “a handful of times.”

 

* * *

 

Tim answered the insistent knocking on his door to find a messy, agitated cowboy.

 

“Raylan,” he smiled a fake, half smile – sizing Raylan up, his blood beginning to pump with anticipation of the unknown.

 

“Tim,” Raylan brushed past him toward the kitchen. By the time Tim slowly followed him, refusing to be rushed by Raylan’s energy, Raylan had located the whisky and poured himself a drink. Tim eyed him suspiciously and positioned himself against the opposite counter.

 

“Raylan, why are you here?” He appeared outwardly distant and disaffected, but Raylan could see the desperation underneath.

 

“What’s with all the booze, Tim? I can smell it on you everyday.” Raylan glared at the other man with an air of arrogance.

 

Tim squinted at him defiantly, “nooope, try again, why are you really here?”

 

Raylan slammed his glass down and quickly crossed the floor to pin Tim against the counter, placing his hands on either side of Tim’s body and leaning in. “Maybe I came to show you what it would be like to ‘just fuck’.”

 

Tim, remaining unaffected by Raylan’s words and proximity, laughed darkly, “aww, did I hurt your feelings?” Blue eyes finally met Raylan’s, but they weren’t laughing. They were hard, and bitter, and something else Raylan couldn’t place.

 

“What about Winona, Raylan?” He meant to hurt Raylan, to pierce him.

 

Raylan kept Tim’s eyes as he gently placed his hand on Tim’s chest, feeling his heartbeat. “That doesn’t concern you, Tim. She has nothing to do with ‘this’.” He emphasized his point by fisting his hand in Tim’s shirt and pulling him forward into a heated kiss.

 

Tim instantly shoved Raylan away and moved from the kitchen toward the front door. They didn’t do _that_ , they’d never done _that_. Raylan ran after him, “Tim! Don’t you dare!” He caught him from behind, slamming shut the partially open door, wreching Tim’s hand behind his back and pressing him into the door with his body.

 

“You’re not a robot, Tim – don’t pretend to be one,” he breathed into Tim’s ear as he spoke and Tim could feel his arousal against his back. Tim said nothing, only stilled his body and slowed his breathing, staring blankly into the distance. Raylan knew Tim was restraining his ingrained, military response to the assault, knew Tim was allowing Raylan to manhandle him.

 

Attempting to elicit a response, Raylan lightly bit and tugged at Tim’s earlobe. Tim groaned in annoyance and shook his head quickly to detach Raylan. His body began to tense, sending a signal to them both that he was one wrong move away from violence. Raylan grabbed Tim’s hair with his free hand and pressed him harder into the door, “Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

 

Tim’s eyes slid closed and his nostrils flared as he exhaled heavily. Raylan rested his forehead on Tim’s shoulder, breathing along with the younger man. They were quiet and still together for what seemed like an eternity.

 

“Do you still believe this is ‘just fucking’?” Raylan gently reached around to undo Tim’s pants as he spoke.

 

Tim’s small, “no,” fell softly between them, and they both knew it was true.

 


End file.
